Accidents Happen
by FanWriter02
Summary: It wasn't like Peter meant to slip. And it wasn't like he'd meant to make a mistake. And he definitely hadn't meant to collapse on the ground in a pool of his own blood, with Tony Stark having to mop up his mess. Irondad and Spideyson one-shot.


**Accidents Happen**

It wasn't like Peter _meant_ to slip.

Truthfully, he didn't even think it was his fault. Not that he'd say as much, but really, he'd never miscalculated before. Not ever. Something just went terribly wrong.

And now here he was, sprawled on the ground where the masked man- correction, two men- towered above him. With the spinning of his vision, they blurred from two smudges into four, then back to two again. He hoped they weren't multiplying.

The prick in his neck stung. These fellas knew what they were doing. He wondered if they'd fought super-humans before that they were so familiar with… weaponry… stuff…

He half snickered half coughed behind the mask. Whatever the heck they injected in his neck, it was like some sort of equivalent to laughing gas. Back in the fifth grade he'd had a tooth pulled, and had experienced said drug, so he could speak from experience. He'd laughed more that day then he had in his entire life.

Ben had found it utterly hilarious.

"Dude, it actually worked." Someone spoke. Peter's brain exploded, going from giddy wooziness to a sharp stabbing headache. He would've stiffened if he wasn't so weak.

That must've been one heck of a drug.

"He wasn't lying." Something clicked. A gun? Peter's pulse skyrocketed as his spider senses went haywire. Dear Uncle Sam, don't let it be a gun. He'd be hopeless to defend himself.

Hopefully these ragabonds were kind gentleman who'd let him off with a whack to the head, tied to a chair, and wounded pride.

Peter blushed at the thought of police finding Spiderman tied to a chair in a decaying garage. Or worse- Tony _Stark_ finding Spiderman tied up in a decaying garage.

Some feeling was returning to his limbs. They weren't at all useful yet, but at least he found himself capable of forming whole words.

"Yeah, fellas, this was fun- i-it really was, and enjoyed the caper, but if it was all the same to you I have homework so-"

Someone kicked his shin. He skittered to the side, cursing his dulled reflexes. His spidey sense was taking far too long to register danger.

"Shet up." The man grumbled. Peter blinked, silently cheering when his mask came back to life, lighting up with screens and alerts. Something about his bloodstream, probably the drug, beeped at him while Karen's disembodied voice staticked illegibly in the background. He could make out two men, one was typing frantically at his phone.

"They bailed!" The phone guy exclaimed.

"Hurry, would you, he's recovering." The other hissed.

Peter wiggled his fingers. They moved without a problem.

"Curse it, Jason!"

Something banged, sending a ringing through Peter's ears. His newly returned senses were dulled in one instant, yet in the background something hummed, like a warning, or maybe a voice? He couldn't tell. Absently, he realized he'd half rolled on his side, no longer pinned beneath a heavy boot. His arms were rigid as they rose to his chest.

He still couldn't hear a danged thing.

"Karen?" he tried to say. Either his voice wasn't working, or he just couldn't hear it. Both were highly probable.

With a shocking whoosh of air, as if the silence was sucked away, the sound came back with a snap. Peter couldn't help but flinch at the onslaught of information. Not only was there heat, a sticky wet fluid covering half his thigh, and a flurry of smoke, there were loud bangs and whines in the background. Peter was far too confused to take any action immediately.

At least his sense of touch and feeling hadn't returned. Thank goodness for small mercies.

He knew he should get up and help, but he felt oddly… immobile. Perhaps they'd stuck him with another needle, he wouldn't no the difference at this point. After weakly struggling to get to his feet and figure out what was going on- and failing miserably- he finally opted for just lying there and trying to regain his bearings.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The smoke was making him dizzy.

"Pe-er? Eter? Peter?" His AI slowly began to fizzle. He'd never felt so relieved in his life.

"Thank God, Karen?" Peter wheezed. He felt like he just ran a marathon. "What's- What's h-happening? Is it the police? Or are they getting away?"

He heard beeping. Probably screens screaming at him, but he couldn't find the energy to open his eyes and see what the bother was.

"You are wounded, Peter, immediate medical attention is advisable." Karen said tensely. Peter weakly waved a hand in acknowledgment. "Two bullets to your left thigh. You won't be able to stand, and you're losing high quantities of blood."

Oh.

So that's what the sticky liquid is.

Yeah… yeah, that made sense. He didn't realize he'd nodded until he'd done it.

"This is serious, Peter." Karen admonished, as if she could read his thoughts. Or could she? Could an AI do that? He didn't know anymore.

He couldn't find the energy to reply to her admonishments.

"Kid!"

Someone else was there. Not Karen.

He opened his eyes.

Crap.

Crap crap crap crap _crap._

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me-" smack. "-give me a sec and I'll be there."

There was silence, the smell of smoke was clearing. He could hear some tinkering, then a the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground. Probably a body.

"Heh, Mr. Stark…" Peter giggled. "The funniest thing happened-" He flushed. Stupid drug.

His mask disappeared, and someone gripped his arm. He blinked against the harsh lights.

"Hey, kid. Got your hand stuck in the cookie jar?" Tony didn't look mad, but he didn't look happy either. Peter had to squint to see him against the lights blaring above.

"No, a needle had the audacity to fall on my neck. Can you believe it?"

Tony didn't acknowledge the quip. His eyes were elsewhere, or, more specifically, on his leg.

Peter took a deep breath, beginning to feel more like himself, and attempted to lift his head. He saw red, but it was hard to tell what was suit and what was blood. "Is it bad? I don't feel anything…"

"That almost makes me worry more." Tony murmured. He turned back to face him, eyes dark. "What were you thinking, Peter!?"

The words were harsh and angry, but with closer inspection, Peter saw that the dark in his eyes wasn't anger, it was worry. Given the circumstances, he was a little too distracted to feel warm and fuzzy about the fact.

"M'sorry." He said, not really focusing on the words. He just wanted to calm Tony down.

Tony heaved a shaky sigh. "Alright. Let's get you to the compound." He grabbed Peter's arm and wrapped it over his shoulder. "You good?"

Peter nodded in a nonchalant gesture. His sweaty hair swatted his forehead irritably.

Tony groaned as he hauled him towards the suit. Peter couldn't feel his leg- must be the shock or something- but it was nothing but dead weight, absolutely useless, leaving him to an unmanly shuffle/limp.

He was hopelessly embarrassed about the entire ordeal, and if he wasn't so dead tired, he'd apologize for dragging Tony away from… whatever it was he was doing. The guy was always busy, he didn't have time for rescuing wannabe superheroes.

Tony carefully lowered Peter to the ground beside his suit. "Sit tight, buddy, I gotta suit up before I carry you any further." The suit began folding around him. "These old man joints won't make it much further." Tony cracked as the mask slammed down over his face. The eyes lit up. "Okie dokie, now to get you to Bruce, then to contact May, then for us both to get or butts whupped."

"Whooooo." Peter half heartedly raised a fist in the air. He was beginning to see double, and his stomach flipped nauseously.

The entire flight, Peter avoided making eye-contact with his rescuer. Tony rambled about Pepper being bossy, in that 'I'm gonna keep talking to keep you awake and alert because you're losing a crap ton of blood' type of tone.

He felt so silly. And small. Like a kid with a scraped knee after crashing his bike.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I should've been more careful." He finally said, interrupting Tony mid-sentence."

"Save that for May." He grumbled. "This is the second time this month this has happened, and let me tell you, having May yell at me for a third time doesn't sound like no picnic."

"Sorry." Peter mumbled.

"Hush." Tony landed carefully on the roof while at the same time exiting his suit, dragging Peter's arm back over his shoulder as he half dragged half carried the drowsy teenager. "Just stay awake, alright?"

They stepped into the elevator, and without giving it much thought, he found himself leaning his head against Tony's shoulder. His gaze fell to the floor, and he spotted the small splotches of blood staining the tile. He'd have to clean that up later…

"Hey, eyes up here." Tony scolded. Peter obediently jerked his head up to stare at the numbers above the doors. Floor 5… Floor 4…

"Sorry about the floor."

"I swear, if you say sorry one more time, I'll have a heart attack and die."

"Don't tempt him." Friday spoke, sounding dead serious, per usual. Peter almost laughed.

"Ouch, I'm deeply offended." Tony deadpanned. Peter felt him tighten his grip around his shoulders.

"I really am, Mr. Stark." Peter wanted him to know, needed him to know, that this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Yeah." Tony patted his shoulder roughly. "Yeah, kid, I know. And don't worry about the floor, Happy needs something to do anyhow."

* * *

I'm hopeless Irondad trash. :P

Oh, and yeah, I'm not dead. Hello.

-Kat


End file.
